Leucotomy
by darksideofnight
Summary: So the usual pet!angel sort of thing, but instead of being sexual its some slightly less romanticized rescue party action. And you know, vicious abuse of the Hippocratic Oath.


**A/N: So, since entering this fantastical fandom, I've seen a lot of fic where angels are pets, or slaves or whatever, and so naturally I had to take that M rated concept and instead write a T rated fic full of dark things. Or you know, the darkest I can think of. So here's the product of that thought process, thought it does, in fact, have a happy ending. **

**Also; important to note that Lucifer is not actually evil in this. Maybe it's an AU. Maybe God just don't give a fuck. I don't know, so just enjoy that, I suppose.**

Stalking smoothly down the rows, Crowley inspected the cages with a disdainful eye.

"This whole thing," he looked at the portly salesman who escorted him. He was quite ugly, really, had an appearance to match his profession. "It doesn't strike you as just the tiniest bit…shady?" The man did not stop to even glance at any of the angels locked inside the cages.

"Not at all," the short man began. "Left alone, they are a danger to humans _and _demons, after all. We simply…make them safe." Crowley's lip curled in disgust, but he didn't allow the slave dealer to see it. Far be it from the King of Hell to proclaim _anything_ 'distasteful.'

"Why are they all so brain dead?" He asked, glancing at a redhead, who seemed to be staring at precisely nothing.

"There's a procedure." The seller explained. "It's similar to lobotomy, in humans, thought it may be a touch more severe." "Of course," The man continued, taking on an air of superiority. "We don't change all that much. Even in their natural state, angels don't really understand choice."

Dull. Crowley knew quite well the commodity that free will was. Without it, torturing a human was little better than torturing an animal. Choice was the spice that made being a demon fun. And of course, without free will, Hell would be empty, anyway.

In addition to this, though, Crowley knew angels. They had about as much choice as he did in his everyday life, they just chose to use it to both antagonize demons and obsess over their own agenda. This was a lifestyle one could respect, really. It took dedication, certainly a dedication that humans didn't have.

They came to a stop in front of the last cage in the row. Inside sat a man who might've been in his thirties, had it not been for the black wings on his back, marking him as many millennia older. His eyes were deep cerulean pools that darted between the two beings approaching his cage, crouched as a frightened animal would be.

"Who's this one?" Crowley asked, boredom masking the curiosity he felt. Naturally, he tended not to care much about 'origins,' after all, who _really_ gave a damn if Batman saw his parents die? But, in spite of this lifelong attitude, he could not help wondering what this being had been _before _he had, apparently, been lobotomized.

"Castiel. You don't have to call him that, though. I don't think he remembers his own name." A wheezy chuckle came from the bald man, which Crowley steadfastly ignored. He bent down, and gazed at the angel, who returned his stare, albeit with blank eyes. He was clad in the white tunic and lace up sandals characteristic of all the angels he'd seen here.

"Tell me, do these enslaved bastards ever attract…trouble?" The insinuation was there, and the salesman finally began to look uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"You know. The other angels have to notice when darlings like these disappear. Do they ever play patriots and terrorists with you people?"

"Well…once, another came for this one. He said his name was…Balthazar, I think. He put up quite a fight, but we killed him." The grotesque man bent down, prodding Castiel's face through the bars of the cage. "It really upset him; I think they must have known each other." He turned back to the angel. "Yeah, Balthazar died right in front of you, huh? You were pwetty sad..." Crowley rolled his eyes at the man's idiotic crooning. The angel's blue eyes welled up with tears, as though he understood the man's words, and was remembering.

"Yeah," The salesman stood up again. "Altogether pretty traumatic, I don't think ole Balthy expected his sweetie to have become a bone-head. Put him out of his misery." He paused, thinking it over. "Other than that, only one's ever come, and that's Lucifer."

"Ah, yes. The devil with wings. How _did _the turn out?" The salesman tugged his collar uncertainly.

"Well, you know, he did succeed, in some ways."

"He freed a lot of angels."

"Well, yes, that is _technically_ true…"

"Killed a _lot _of people, if I remember the news correctly."

"Well, yes. But they did sign the liability wavers. And at any rate, all the angels he freed weren't able to function in any realistic scenario, anymore." Crowley nearly laughed aloud at the man. As if Lucifer gave a damn about something like that. The angel hated humans, demons, and all things with the exception of his own kind. He bent down, again, and addressed Castiel.

"Can you speak?" By way of response, the angel cocked his head, obviously not understanding. Instead of making any verbalizations, the prisoner grasped the demon's hand, inspecting it as though it were a new sigil.

"None of them can, not English, anyway. They're virtually without power, wings clipped, and locked inside their human vessels. Which I suppose is a shame for the vessel itself, but, give and take, eh?" At long last, Crowley knew it was time. He spun, pulling the knife out the pocket of his over coat, and driving it into the human salesman's throat.

"Yes, give and take. I do like that philosophy, don't you?" The demon turned back and stabbed the knife into the lock on the cage holding Castiel, and dragged the angel out of it roughly. With the angel taking trembling steps behind him, he continued to disable locks.

After several minutes of this process, he had quite the army of brainless, stuttering children-in-adult-bodies coming along behind him.

"Now, kiddies," he began authoritatively. "You'll have to wait to turn your minds back on until Lucy gets here, so sit tight, I'll get souls, you'll get freedom, and we'll all be happy." Performing the summoning ritual took almost no time, which was a benefit of coming prepared.

"I got your angels." He stated, plain and simple.

"Good." The blonde man remarked coolly, inspecting the large group, and holding back the protective feeling that surged in him at the sight of his brothers and sisters. "You'll have the souls I promised you, but meet me later; I need to take care of this, now."

"Fine." Crowley growled, unhappy about the delay, but disinclined to protest against an archangel. The Morning Star looked at the clipped wings of his siblings and sighed, leading them across the room, free of the cages. Crowley took this as his cue to leave.

Castiel approached his older brother silently, offering a vague look of recognition. He took his brother's hand, looking at it in much the same way he had Crowley's.

"Oh, Cassie." The elder sighed, feeling the wave of affection, sorrow, and righteous anger all it one go. He snapped his fingers, and the group disappeared, away to the place Gabriel was waiting.

And, here was the fun part. The part that made Crowley's deception necessary. He exited the room, thrusting his angel blade into all the humans he saw on the way out of the complex, and perhaps going overboard when the policeman arrived, slashing his insides to so many fleshy ribbons.

Lucifer was not, after all, overly fond of humans.

A/N: Yeah. I don't know how good this is, considering Lucifer's OOC, and pretty much the rest of my less than stellar writing skills. But it did satisfy my sense of indignation, and boredom, and in the end, _isn't that all that matters._ Anyway, please review.


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